


No Dress Code: Home is Where the Sweets Are

by GuileandGall



Series: No Dress Code [22]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: Furia learned to cook at the knees of her grandmother. She loves to feed people, especially the people she loves. It is one of the ways she relaxes.





	No Dress Code: Home is Where the Sweets Are

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfillment of a domestic prompt from Close ( @bosselimitchell ).

**-1-**

Traffic from the airport thickened after the plane arrived, or so his driver told him after the third time Eli mentioned how bored he was. Even his bodyguard shot him a dismissive look. So, Eli draped himself across the backseat and pulled out his phone. The first few texts to Furia went unanswered, then he got a reply.

_Just relax._

_Traffic or not, you_ _’ll be home soon._

_And I made you something special._

He sent a few inquiring texts. All he got in reply to each:

_You_ _’ll see._

The response and the little smiley face with the tongue sticking out at him only frustrated him more. Though that exact response had become a ritual of theirs.

Whenever he returned home, she cooked. Well, to be honest she always cooked, but those nights were different. Always just the two of them, always something new she learned to make while he was away. Always a plethora of sweets, because she knew what he liked.

The thought of it distracted him for a moment. An image of her baking popped instantly to mind. Even with flour smudged on her cheek and peppering her jet black hair, Furia was beautiful. That afternoon months earlier she’d smacked his hand with a spatula to keep him from not letting the cookies cool, but double chocolate chunk were one of his many confectionery weaknesses. He finally managed to nick one, only to burn the hell out of his thumb. A tender smile spread across his lips, recalling the way she’d sternly lectured him for taking one before they cooled. The playful lecture became serene as she had kissed his thumb. While it didn’t steal away the burn magically, it made him feel better.

When he got home, she wouldn’t be harried. No, when he got home everything would be in its place—food on the small table in their kitchen. And her. Furia would be exquisite, temptation on legs, looking at him with a healthy dose of lust and love that he knew so well.

The honking of car horns dragged him out of his head. Peeking up, they were still on the freeway, so he grabbed the tiny remote and set to torturing everyone in the car. He surfed through the radio channels listening to this song and that one only long enough for him to tire of it before moving on to the next.

“Why the hell are all these people on the road anyway?” he griped.

“It’s rush hour,” his bodyguard, Johnny, answered in that tone he took from time to time.

“Bloody ridiculous. Isn’t there a better route? Something faster?” he accused.

“No, sir.”

Again, he was bored, and with all the honking and yelling there was no way he’d be able to dip back into his memories to relieve his boredom. So, he pulled out his phone again, visiting some of his favorite sites. He chuckled quietly when one particularly vocal young woman’s keening drew the attention of his driver. It would have been all out laughter if he’d managed to shock Johnny as well. That hadn’t happened in years, though.

His attention to the videos lasted only moments longer than with the songs on the radio, at least until he noticed the change in the momentum of the car. Eli sat up again as the car reached the stop light at the bottom of the off ramp.

 _Almost home_ , he thought. It prompted a wide, almost tranquil smile to spread across his face, while a tightness wound through his body. He would see her soon, hold her again, feel her body against his … _soon_.

**-2-**

Furia only left the kitchen after everything had been prepared. She set the main course to warm while she’d showered and changed. Sure, the purple halter dress might have been a little much, and certainly the silk stockings and garters were, but Eli adored them, and she adored him. Plus, this had become a ritual.

On the days Eli returned from a tour or any absence longer than a day, Furia greeted him in this manner—a special dinner and sweets. It helped her, too. Cooking always proved a great outlet for the nervous energy that thrummed through her in anticipation of seeing him again. She’d always loved to cook, ever since she was a girl; and feeding the people she loved was just one of the ways she took care of them.

She knew who she shared her life with, who she married. Sometimes she joined him on the road, but she couldn’t just abandon her own life to follow his dreams. Furia loved Eli, and she wanted him to strive for what he wanted. She refused to hold him back. Of course, the flip side of that coin proved to be long periods of separation and a lot of goodbyes, but there were also the reunions.

Her ears perked up when she heard the low hum of an engine and the crunching of tires on the driveway. The apron she donned to protect her dress while she prepared the table came off easily and landed in the sink as she rushed around the marble island. She reached the foyer in time to see him open the door, in time to see him flash her that megawatt smile—so wide it showed off his dimples, which always gave him a boyish charm.

A choked sound escaped her throat, even she didn’t know if it was a laugh or a cry; but her heels resounded off the hard surface of the floor as she ran to him. As always, Eli caught her when she launched herself at him. Her arms encircled his shoulders; his, her waist, while her legs wrapped around his hips, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

Furia buried her face in the crook of his neck, savoring the smoky spice of his soap. Sometimes, on those nights when she missed him the most, she’d sneak a whiff from the bottle in their shower. It always ended the same way, with her scrubbing herself with that scent then wrapping herself in one of his t-shirts. She’d cuddle in bed, pulling the sheet over her head to keep that trademark smell as long as possible. But on her, it never smelled quite the same and it never lasted on her skin like it did on his. So, with him in her arms, she breathed deep, pressing her face against his warm neck as he placed soft kisses along her shoulder.

“Dios, I’m so happy to see you,” she finally breathed. The strain in her voice echoed in the cavern created by her arms and his neck. The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as his arms tightened around her that much more. Joy and relief pulsed through her, having him in her arms again. Like always, it felt like far too long since she’d held him.

“Me, too,” he replied against her temple. Firm lips pressed against thin skin. Those she missed the most, the sweet _I love you_ kisses, the _I cherish you_ pecks, and playful _I adore you_ ones.

Save for a soft series of clacks, which resounded off the tile of the entryway from the driver delivering Eli’s luggage, the man remained silent when he entered their home. As Eli carried her deeper into the house, the front door closed behind them.

“It smells amazing in here.”

“Thank you,” she said, raising her head. Her fingers threaded through the soft hair at the back of his neck.

“Mmm. Did you make something spicy?”

She nodded. “A Moroccan tagine. I also made Le Russe, Tfah, an applesauce cake, and some anise cookies.” Her eyes never left his.

“Sounds amazing.”

He seemed happy to be home, if not tired. She could feel the tension in his shoulders dissipate with every step. His smile softened and lit his eyes in a way she knew intimately. Despite that, a hint of darkness around his eyes and the pallor of his skin concerned her.

Cupping his cheeks, Furia kissed his lips, gently at first, but it deepened quickly. Long months of separation often affected her, as did finally having him home again. Furia hugged him tight once more; she wanted to tell him how much she missed him, but that wasn’t part of their ritual—those words hurt them both. Plus, they knew they each missed one another. Over the years, they found the more they said, “I miss you” the harder it made saying goodbye the next time.

“Well, hopefully you’ll enjoy it. I got the recipe from the chef at this lovely new place Downtown. The food’s quite authentic and the atmosphere reminded me of that place we visited in Marrakesh.”

He hummed and nodded; his silence another sign of his exhaustion. He patted her rear, and her legs loosened so he could set her on her feet, though he didn’t let her go. And neither did she. Her whole body felt lighter the moment Eli’s calloused fingers traced the shape of her cheekbone, moving toward her ear. With a hum, her eyes closed, and she pressed her cheek into his palm.

Furia held his hand there and smiled up at him. Her eyes locked in his bright aqua gaze, “I love you, Eli.”

“I love you, too, Sol.” 

The brush of his lips against her forehead made her smile. Closing her eyes, she savored that sensation, as if trying to memorize it for the next time he was away—the delicate pressure of his lips just above her brow, his fingers just barely dipping into her hair, his body tight against hers. It made her pulse quicken and her heart feel full and light.

She inhaled deeply, the sound of her own breath echoing in her ears for a moment, before she opened her eyes again and smiled up at him. “Come on, you should eat while it’s still hot.”

With reluctance, she took a step back. Clasping both of his hands in hers, she led him into the kitchen. Pulling out the chair, she all but pushed him into it, then set to the task of making him a plate. His calloused fingers skimmed the back of her knee as she lifted the lid of the tagine. Lingering kisses peppered over her bare back at the edge of the top of her dress. While one hand crept toward and traced the lace at the top of her stockings, the other tugged at the ribbon dangling down her back, not enough to pull it loose, but just to see if it actually would undo the top of her dress.

It halted Furia’s progress long enough for her to give him a mischievous, narrowed glance over her shoulder. She got a kittenish grin in reply. With a tender, lingering peck against his forehead, she set his plate in front of him and made her own. Once she sat beside him, the pair didn’t separate—if it wasn’t her leg against his, it was his hand on her thigh, or her fingers dancing across his decorated skin. Neither of them, once reunited were ready yet to part, even in the minutest manner.

As Eli picked at his plate, Furia speared bites on her own fork and made sure he ate what she calculated to be enough. Every now and again, she laid her head on his shoulder, teased her hand through his hair, or pressed long kisses to his temple. Eventually, he declined bites from her plate as well as his own.

“Delicious, as always.” Eli stated. The finality in his tone also held a quieter note of the exhaustion she could read on his face and in his body. Leaning on her chair, he curled a wave of her ebony hair around his fingers and pulled her closer, pecking the tip of her nose. “How about a shower, then dessert?”

She nodded, her hands on his cheeks. “Sounds perfect.”

Her mouth pressed against his, and a spark of energy seemed to return to him. Still kissing him, she rose to her feet, bending Eli backward just a hair. His tongue plunged past her lips with a hint of piney juniper, even though she never really drank gin she was intimately familiar with the Christmas tree bite of it.

“Maybe dessert first,” Eli suggested when the kiss broke. He held her forehead to his.

“I think that sounds brilliant.”

The hand on her neck, slid down her arm, raising goose bumps as it stroked down to clasp her hand. “Great minds and all that.”

Furia took a step back to allow Eli to get to his feet, then her free hand wound around his waist to guide him toward the stairs.


End file.
